


Magical

by Katonica



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Hogwarts, Magic, Morgana - Freeform, OC, Pre-War, spells, vitiligo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katonica/pseuds/Katonica
Summary: His eyes seemed to hypnotize her, like a snake keeping its prey in a trance before its final strike to end the life of the little kitten in front of him.She blinked. And the feline had once again escaped the tight grasp of the serpent, with the aura of freedom that she always seemed to have around her.And the game of snake and kitten began again.-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-She's always been quiet. "Stay silent. Stay impassive. Clear your mind." A mantra told to be her only saviour, it seems to be the only thing keeping her safe from the deadly grips of the notorious Tom Riddle.Here's the problem; Tom despises being in the dark about anything, and this new girl is no exception.There's just one thing he can't deny.Tom Riddle is curious about the girl with the magical name.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first official multi-chaptered work. I've been working on this over in Wattpad for a while, but I think sharing it here would be an interesting look for my first... officially working-hard-on book?

If Morgana could do anything, it would be to have perfect skin.

Not any skin, however. No, she wanted the tan colour that wouldn't have white splotches over her face, over her body. She wanted the white spots to go away.

And most importantly, she wanted her voice back.

Her hands slid over a scar; she remembered the event of being hit by a broomstick, the woman not daring to go close enough to touch her.

The scratches on her arms, from when her friends had turned on her when learning of what the spots on her face supposedly meant.

The large burn scar on her throat that had never quite healed, from when the villagers decided to drag her away from the fields of where she worked and hold their own trial. It wasn't until her father had found her tied on the stake that she woke.

But when she did, she cried. And the pain of the tears, the pain of speaking. The villagers had burned her vocal cords until she could no longer speak.

She lived in an isolated world, where she stayed in a little room. Though the Salem Trials were over, people from her countryside town still believed witches, evil witches, lived among them. Morgana couldn't understand why. She had no magic, no wand. She had black hair that turned the slightest of blue underneath the sun, not the vibrant crimson of the setting sun. Her lips were the shade of pink where it nearly reached red, not the dark burgundy of blood. Her eyes were a simple brown, unknown to her; it glowed a slight honey when odd things happened around her.

So what was wrong with her; why did the Devil decide to mark her personally with chunks of her skin tone turning white, continuously spreading?

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Morgana's isolation had turned her tan skin from the hours of working in a field under the hot sun a pale peach colour, though the white spots still there, haunting her.

An owl swooped into her room upstairs, away from people. At the first sign of life, she looked up, excited for someone to see her. Her tuxedo cat, Serifina was still asleep during the day so it was probably the movement of a human. When she noticed the bird, her eyebrows raised, taking note of the envelope in its beak.

 _Morgana Chiu,_ it read. Her eyes slid back to the owl, ready to take flight, and towards the bit of meat left in her soup. Taking the beef from the bowl, she motioned for the bird to take it. It happily flew off after eating the remainder of Morgana's soup.

The pale and skinny girl slowly moved, her muscles not used to the movement as she climbed down the ladder to her parents, who had no marked skin. Her eyes widened as she looked at the floating pots and pans, so shocked that she fell off the ladder before reaching the floor.

The two adults turned around in astoundment and the cookware dropped to the ground as they rushed to their child, clutching her back. Then they took notice of the letter.

The dominant one, Tessira snatched the envelope from her daughter as Tucker helped his little girl stand up.

"Tucks." Her mother's eyes were wide. "We told them not to. She'll be... Oh, my Lord." Morgana caught her mother and helped her to a chair, where the older woman sat in serious thought.

Morgana's father shook his head. "You know it's against the law to do that." Tucker turned to his daughter.

"Morgana, I think it's time. We don't want to get your hopes up, but..."

And that's how Morgana learned she was magical. Maybe the Devil didn't mark her. She thought. There were other magical people, and they probably have white spots on them too.

And for the first time, Morgana didn't feel lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author awkwardly stares into the vast amount of guest and member readers, wondering if they rather dislike her idea of this story. She waits for applause or boo-ing.
> 
> So, yeah. This is my first work in a while and I'm slightly panicked about your comments on this, don't hold back. I'd like to improve my writing.
> 
> Some people might be curious to this odd... White spots she keeps referencing to. What she is talking about is called 'Vitiligo', a common disease that afflicts hundreds of thousands of people per year. Some people are lucky to have it in areas, like their stomachs, where they can hide it. Other people, like me, may have it a little less easy, like having it on your face and having everyone you meet stare at it for a little while longer than necessary.
> 
> What may need to be clarified is why on earth this village decided to burn her at the stake, especially when the Salem Trials were over decades ago. For this village, news travels slow. They're still scared of evil witches haunting them and when they see a little girl suddenly appear (when Tucker and Tessira first moved into the settlement) with these white spots, they place the blame of any plight of the community on the poor girl who's afflicted with a disease they don't understand, and won't until 1917, something that was still suspicious even when officially diagnosed.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go to Diagon Alley, back into the world Morgana so desperately hid from for years. She only hopes she won't be the only one to share the dilemma of the evil white stains covering her body, but sometimes wishes don't always come true.
> 
> It's not every day you see a magical train or a flying cat.

Morgana woke up in the most exuberant of moods on September 1, 1939; excited to see a train. Since she had lived in the countryside her whole life, it was natural for her to be excited to see a locomotive. However, she quickly learned that by pushing her father off the bed, it would not hurry the family to the Hogwarts Express. Her father shook his head, clearing the ringing sound of his fall and getting dressed.

His pride could be wounded by such a small child, it was no wonder that this was definitely his Slytherin wife, Tessira's daughter. Even now, he could feel the aura of her power enveloping him in a warm embrace, keeping him safe.

Then the black and white cat thought it would be funny to sit on his back. Not wanting to hurt the cat, he stayed still until he felt the feline purr and the claws of the cat slowly press against his skin. Tucker let a yelp of surprise and stood up quickly, flinging the cat off his back and onto his sleepy wife.

Not wanting to suffer the consequences of throwing the house pet onto his terrifying wife, Tucker fled the scene and quickly started out the bedroom to get ready for the day. Morgana raised her eyebrows at her father's antics, but smiled nonetheless and rung a small bell, alerting Serifina to get off Tessira before she woke up. The cat stood up from her crouched position and leaped off the bed towards the small girl, accompanying her master to the main room.

Tucker looked at the cat warily as he slowly brought the cage out. The cat, however, looked at Morgana who nodded and entered the birdcage (they got rid of the perch). Tucker glanced at his daughter in suspicious amusement, and she responded in the same fashion, a glint of mischief in her eyes. The man's heart swelled. He hadn't seen that look in his daughter's eyes for most of her years.

"Well, Morgana. Off we go! Since the letter arrived a bit late, we'll head to Diagon Alley for supplies first, then rush off to the train station." He turned to see an excited girl and smiled. He handed his daughter the cat cage and took out his wand. Since Morgana's hands were a bit full at the time, Tucker held his daughter's arm and they apparated away to the Leaky Cauldron.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Morgana stumbled as she finally landed, hugging the cage close to her chest. Tucker kneeled down, checking to see if his daughter had been splinched. Lucky for him, she hadn't. Pocketing his wand and holding his daughter's arm again, he slowly guided the girl to the pub.

People turned around to look at the girl, surprise etched on their faces as they noticed the white spots on her face, as she decided to wear a long shirt and skirt along with leggings so they wouldn't notice the spots on her arms or legs. The newspaper boy hat atop her head and bow tie raised some eyebrows, not used to the child's boyish fashion.

And a man with hair and a beard with fire, dressed in bright robes noticed what the high collar of the shirt tried to hide; a large burn mark, scarring the girl for life. He ran his hands through the graying hairs, thinking closely as he sat slightly in a stunned silence along with the other patrons of the pub. He was sure everyone had felt the pressing magical aura surrounding the girl and filling the room with a suffocating amount of magic that wrapped around their bodies, hugging it like it was protecting each of them and keeping them away from her at the same time. The wizard's bright blue eyes flickered in the morning light, a sure sign _something_ , whether it be for the better or worse of the young girl, was forming in his head.

The gazes of the people in the pub burned the back of Morgana's head and she hugged the cage tighter, scared from the attention. Would they hurt her too; would they attempt to 'get rid' of the spots too? But she watched her father silently, watch him talk to the bartender who nodded them to the rear courtyard, where a brick wall faced them. Morgana followed her father and watched him take out his wand again, moving his wand 3 bricks up and 2 across, tapping the block 3 times.

In amazement, she watched as the wall opened, revealing alleyways and curving paths of Diagon Alley. Her mouth dropped, surprised at what the brick wall had hidden. Tucker let out a breath, ready for the amount of walking that he was going to have to do. He decided to get her a wand last since he wanted to see her excited expression as a type of payment before he would no longer see her for the school year.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

He took her to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, where she was fitted with 3 school robes, a silver cloak (her favourite colour, she had mentioned to him years ago), and one dress for any special occasion, even if Tucker prayed to Merlin that she would be attracted to no one in the school, he wasn't ready for the dad talk; worried for the boy's safety if Tessira was to be the one conducting the speech. The dress, he asked for it not to be fitted on his daughter but to be made privately and given to him after Madame Malkin was finished with the gown. Tucker wanted to berate the woman, however, as Madame's eyes constantly trailed back to his daughter's neck. Luckily for the tired man, the dressmaker didn't comment on it.

Morgana was excited, ready to head to the next shop which happened to be Flourish and Blott's, where they purchased all the necessary books for the school year and a few stories that Morgana appeared to be interested in; The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Jinxes for the Jinxed, Self-Defensive Spellwork, Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, and The Healer's Helpmate. Tucker quickly placed a simple charm (Wingardium Leviosa) on the books to help his struggling daughter. She gave him a glance of appreciation and smiled at him, looking in amusement at Serifina; the cat looked panicked as she hovered over the ground with no support at all.

Tucker then dragged around Morgana around the shopping district, bringing her to shops like Magical Menagerie for Serifina's food, Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, Potage's Cauldron Shop, and Scribbulus Writing Instruments (she liked the purple hawk quill shown at the window). With much convincing, Morgana was able to get her father to purchase a few sweets from Flourish and Blott's, which carried a few sweets. Every shopkeeper's eyes had quickly moved to the spots on her face, the motions were too obvious not to see. And Morgana was slowly receding back into that small room of isolation where she was the only one marked by the Devil.

Finally, it was time. The proud father of his silly bookworm daughter brought her towards the wand shop, and finally saw that last glimmer of excitement and pure innocence, something he thought he would never see again while he lived.

"Come, Morgana. We'll see your wand now." A young man, age 33, named Garrick Ollivander held the door open for both father and daughter. Morgana's eyes widened but proceeded to the shop at her father's gesture. It was not unnoticed by Morgana when she saw the shopkeeper's eyes flicker over her white spots and her scarred throat.

As soon as she entered the building, the smell of different wood fragrances hit her nose and she sneezed, unused to this many scents at once. The building was dimly lit with floating candles, with the smell of oak was strong compared to the other woods, giving it the homely and rustic feel an ancient wandshop should have.

Ollivander smiled at the girl before waving his wand, measuring her height and left arm, her writing hand. The man looked over at Tucker who had just entered the shop and his silver eyes seemed to twinkle. "I told you, Mr. Chiu. You Slytherins are always so confident." The father gave a dip of his head in amusement and looked around the shop, hoping to see Morgana's wand before she did.

To Tucker's surprise, Ollivander started to take several books from Morgana's collection and look at the titles.

"Hmm... Alder wood could be a possibility. Maybe beech?" He shook his head at the possibility of her being a young child wise beyond her years since he had seen that innocent look in her eyes while entering the shop. "Definitely a shorter wand." He said with a knowing look at Morgana's height, amusement clearly shown in his eyes.

He wandered to the back of the shop, mumbling incoherent words. His first choice for the young girl was a Black Walnut wand with a dragon heartstring core. When she gave it a small, foolish wave, the books Tucker had under his charm attacked him, hitting his stomach. In shock, Morgana moved the wand in a quick motion down, stopping the hostile texts.

Ollivander looked in surprise at her control over the publications and quickly took the wand away from her, handing her another wand; Ebony wood with a unicorn hair core. It caused Serifina's cage to fly around the shop rapidly, and Morgana quickly made the downwards motion, stopping the cage from flying through the glass window.

Ollivander hadn't seen anyone with slight control over all wands before and decided that he better finish the selection before the girl accidentally endangered anyone. His final selection was an Alder wood wand with a unicorn hair core. His choice was influenced by the Healer's book she had chosen for light reading. Luckily for everyone in the shop (including the cat), the wand allowed a little apparition of a swift (a type of bird) to fly around the shop before popping in a shower of sparkles. Ollivander and Tucker let out a silent breath of relief.

The shopkeeper smiled and handed her the wand in exchange for 8 galleons. They exited the shop, with the wand in Tucker's hand; he feared the little girl would wave it around foolishly and hurt someone by accident.

After receiving a small deposit of galleons, sickles, and knuts from Grignott's that he handed to Morgana in a small pouch, warning her not to spend it on foolish things. Then holding hands with books and supplies floating behind them, the father and daughter walked back to the train where they would head towards the Hogwarts Express.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Tucker gulped as he pushed the cart holding Serifina and Morgana's trunk. He didn't know how his daughter would react to again being the only one, the only one with white spots all over their body. He saw the glances of the Muggles looking at the spots on her face.

Morgana had donned the silver cloak that she had received at Madame Malkin's. She looked at the ticket, looking for the platform 9 and 3/4. The train had only been built 9 years ago (1930), with great difficulty of 167 Memory charms and the largest Concealment charm ever cast in Britain. Tucker was also quite excited to see this train since he had gone to school via portkey before the train was there. He furrowed his brow and watched as a family run through a wall between platform 9 and 10 and smiled.

"Run through that wall." He told her. Morgana acted like he was crazy, looking at her father in doubt but proceeding to do as he instructed. Her surprise was plastered over her face when she didn't crash into a wall, but seeing another train station. Her eyes, however, became downcast as she looked around, only seeing flawless skin; no marks found anywhere besides on her. No one marked by the Devil, but her.

Tucker had just run through the wall, grinning like a schoolboy as he experienced the magic of the train station before he saw Morgana's crushed face. He froze, never the good one with Morgana's tears and quickly hugged her, hoping that she wouldn't cry. But he felt it, the slight wetness of tears on his hand, his sleeves starting to become drenched with drops of his daughter's sadness, knowing that she was alone again. "Honey, it's okay. Morgana, Morgana." He tried to comfort her.

And a boy, with eyes of brown and neatly combed black hair, with perfectly normal pale skin walked by. His gaze flickered to the crying girl and raised his eyebrows when he noticed the cloak she wore that covered her face, then to the man that was attempting to comfort his daughter. In deep breaths, Morgana calmed down and noticed the boy in front of her. She froze, not wanting to be harassed for her appearance but braced herself for the insult. Tucker, noticing the rigidness of his daughter, stood up again in fear that he had hurt her and looked around for the nearest train compartment entrance, hoping to get his daughter to seclusion faster.

_"Stay silent. Stay impassive. Clear your mind, no one can learn anything about you."_

The mantra told to her by Tucker Chiu himself ran through her head and she let out a breath, clearing her mind and emotions. It wasn't easy, as she continued to receive stares from different people, young and old. But for her father, to have one lasting memory of her leaving them for the school of magic happily, was worth the effort.

Tom looked at her shadowed face and her brown eyes slid to an impassive state, tear stains still on her cheeks but no lasting emotion in her eyes. Attempting to use his new skill, he delved into her mind, hunting for the cause of her weakness.

Nothing.

He found absolutely nothing. As her gaze pulled away from him towards an Asian man who called out to her, he stood in a stunned silence, staring after her. He could have sworn he saw her eyes glow underneath the shadows of her hood. She pushed the cart towards the man, leaving Tom alone.

There was no way that was possible. Everyone had something in their mind constantly; clearing the mind was like becoming a newborn babe again with no thoughts. Even that state of mind was difficult to achieve. His eyes watched her go through the crowds with her head lowered. His curiosity peaked. And like the sly snake he was, he started to set a trap for the unsuspecting kitten, walking slowly to the bait where he would strike. And he would once again gain his prize.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Morgana bade her father goodbye and entered an empty compartment at the end of the train, away from everyone again. With great difficulty, she managed to get the trunk up into the compartments. After letting Serifina out of the cage, she opened her knapsack which held the small pouch of money, sweets, and books. Taking out the first book, Tales of Beedle the Bard, she opened a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

Morgana placed the bean into her mouth and tasted the flavour of caramel. She smiled and went back to her book, petting the feline as she read. It wasn't natural, but she didn't have a natural connection to the cat. She had found Serifina as a kitten one day when she was hiding in the attic, on her 9th birthday. They had shared a strong bond since then.

Tom stared at his compartment with Avery and Lestrange in tow, all three boys staring in shock. There was a girl wearing a silver cloak, occasionally wincing at the flavours of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and reading. Avery looked at Lestrange in panic for the girl as Tom opened the compartment door, alerting the girl and the cat. The brown eyes quickly moved towards the movement and widened as she took note that there were two more boys behind the powerful looking one.

It wasn't as if he had planned on her sitting in his compartment, but it was a damn good chance to understand what power she had. What magic she contained, lying dormant in her blood. His mind started to calculate a new trap to be set. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough as her brown eyes caught his own.

With a practiced motion, everything she had laid around the seat was back into her satchel and in a corner, where she cowered underneath her hood. Taking deep breaths, she rang the small bell which alerted the black and white cat to bound towards the owner. They walked into the compartment, taking in a deeper breath as their bodies attempted to adjust to the magical aura that suddenly surrounded their bodies, tightening like a cobra to a small mouse. Tom was the only one who didn't feel the pressure of the magic, instead, casting a curious glance at the odd reaction of the two followers.

The boys were surprised as they recovered, their own magic struggling to fight the strange aura filling the room. It appeared she was used to be pushed around and didn't like attention. Tom moved his head to the side a bit, indicating for Avery and Lestrange to come into the compartment with him. They sat down, Tom sitting on the opposite side of her with Lestrange, Avery having to sit with the quiet girl. They all silently observed her for a few minutes and she continued to shrink into the small corner near the window, continuing to read her book.

"What are you reading?" Her gaze snapped up to the source of the voice; the boy with black hair and dark brown eyes, but not her race. And definitely not her skin. No, his skin had no spots of white. It wasn't marked by the Devil. Instead of responding to him as he'd expected, she handed him her book. He raised an eyebrow but plucked the text from her hands and read the title. Morgana was honestly terrified, this being her first interaction with children her age after 6 years of silence and isolation. Now three boys felt their magic being held down, like someone hugging their body too tight for their own sake. For Avery and Lestrange, it was strangling them, like they had climbed the Everest without casting the bubble-head charm. For Tom, it was a surprise. The magic pressing against his own was protecting its master, keeping the others dormant while the keeper could move unobstructedly.

 _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ it read. "A fairy tale?" He asked. She pondered over this, and let out a breath on the glass of the train, fogging it. With the temporary palette, she drew a cauldron with a foot below it, following a stick figure. Avery raised an eyebrow.

"You mean The Wizard and the Hopping Pot?" Avery asked. She gave a small nod, clapping her hands together in a minimal excitement and causing the hood falling over her face more. "Why do you have a hood?" Tom inquired, handing her back the book. The girl shook her head, refusing to tell them. The handsome boy sat back, leaning back on the seat as the magic that had been slowly strangling them dissipated, allowing all three to relax.

"Can I have your name?" She took her quill out, amusing the three boys of its unusual purple colour and wrote on a piece of parchment. It did not go unnoticed, that she wrote with her left hand. Peculiar, for the compartment, had three right-handed students and one left-hand first year. She handed the scrap to Tom, who read the name on the paper.

He furrowed his eyebrows, reading the loopy yet graceful writing. "Morgana Chiu?" She gave a small nod. The boys noticed her movement slowly leaving the secluded corner.

"Say, are you a pure-blood?" Lestrange finally spoke, asking the silent question bouncing around the small room. She cocked her head to the side, thinking. After a minute, she nodded. Tom frowned, unsure if she was lying. Her eyes clouded with curious doubt, he looked into them, muttering Legilimens to see what she had in store. It came in quick flashes, but he managed to read Pettins and Chiu until his shaky spell was suddenly cut off. The magic that had disappeared a while ago came back, the magical air suddenly focusing on the mind reader, causing him to cough out in surprise.

"Why don't you speak?" Tom inquired, trying to remove the magical strain from his body. She shook her head, refusing his 'offer', luckily getting rid of the suffocating power. Tom frowned at her refusal; it wasn't an offer. He took a deep breath. "Well?" He flashed her a tight smile, frustration peaking as she continued to shake her head no. His eyes narrowed as she seemed to melt into the train seats, a puddle of embarrassed silver. His throat emitted a low growl, heard by no one, except for Morgana. Staying in the attic alone for so many years trained her senses. What she couldn't see in the dark, she heard. And she definitely heard the growl from the charming, yet dangerous boy.

Morgana flinched at the sound. He raised an eyebrow at her motion, noting that her sense of hearing may have been better than he expected. Her mouth opened and closed, unable to make a sound; every time she moved her hands towards her hood, they froze and lowered down again.

Tom's head slightly moved, but the motion told Avery to take off her hood, or he would suffer the consequences. The boy might be in the second year, but he was as powerful as a fourth year. Avery sat still for a bit and Tom looked away from Morgana, causing her to relax a bit. As soon as her shoulders lowered, Avery reached over and attempted to pull down her hood.

Morgana flinched and hid her face in her lap, covering the hood so his lackey couldn't pull it off. Tom was surprised at her flexibility since she sat with her legs crossed between each other. "Morgana." He spoke, soothing her nerves. "Just show me your face." It was peculiar, if he looked closely, he swore he saw a golden glow surround the girl.

Morgana remembered that voice, the voice of the villager who had lured her to the stake before she went to her house for hiding. It was the calm before the storm, the peace before the war. But she wouldn't go through it again. Never again.

She was to follow every command, she remembered that. Or suffer the consequences. Her mind decided that the villagers and the boy in front of her were alike. _Cunning and powerful, but **never** in the way you'd expect._

She ran. At record time, the girl got up from the seat, threw open the door, closed it and disappeared from the hallways of compartments. Riddle, Avery, and Lestrange stared at the empty space where she had sat, the cat now occupying the seat that she had been. The strange yellow eyes of the cat seemed to see Tom's soul, the golden hue hypnotizing him. The connection was broken off as Tom looked away, slightly freaked out by the feline.

Outside of the compartment was a different story.

Morgana's body shivered as she remembered the seemingly warm eyes of the boy but the danger that the brown eyes held. It wasn't something to be reckoned with. More importantly, she saw the beautiful alabaster, cocoa, tan, and chocolate-coloured skin there was on the train. No one had them. No one had the markings that had cursed her internally and externally.

 _You should have known._ She scolded herself as she felt the tears sting in her eyes, the cold feeling running down her cheeks while she looked at herself in a window.

She was all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author wanders around, needing coffee or tea, something with caffeine, for her to survive. She shakes her head, crashing into giant words proclaiming, "Chapter One." Her eyes widen as she rubs her eyes, rereading everything she had wrote. It seems suspiciously familiar...
> 
> If anyone reads Wattpad, you might recognize this story from it. I had planned this story a year ago (2017) with two of my editors when I decided to take book writing as seriously as a student could. So, no. I am not stealing this story from Wattpad, and I hope I don't earn any accusations about it.
> 
> Another thing, I wonder if you noticed: Morgana is left-handed. Another reason for the village to believe she was an evil witch since left-handed people were considered evil.
> 
> In my mind, I've always believed that magic has a sort of aura that surrounds the witch or wizard that carries it. Magical users can feel the aura graze against their skin, like a brush of wind. That is until they feel threatened or the need to threaten.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talking hat and a large group of new friends can help a lonely girl.

"That girl is different." Avery immediately stated as soon as Morgana had left the compartment. He was breathing heavily, trying to take back the oxygen the magical aura of Morgana had removed from his lungs.

Tom Riddle rolled his eyes. "No, Avery. I couldn't tell." His sarcasm was blunt and made the boys flinch in his obvious hate of stating the ordinary. They were concerned; had Tom felt the powerful magic rolling off the girl, in waves of strength? 

"Why'd she draw? She knows how to talk, right?" Tom's mind scoffed at the boy's question. Had none of them seen the large scar on the girl's throat? That was all he could think, as he had already drifted away from his followers and to the mysteriously silent girl. He was curious. How could he not be curious about the girl; her personality was different, and it was obvious that she had been traumatized.

"Tom? Tom...?" He was shaken from his thoughts by Lestrange, pointing at Morgana as she paced around the compartment door, wearing her new school robes. Her brown eyes were like his, a normal brown; though his brown eyes were rather sharp and inquisitive similar to the cold and calculating snake while hers was more like a curious kitten who wanted to learn about the world she lived in. The one thing he noted was how shattered they were. The eyes seemed to hold fragments of pain and isolation when she wasn't showing her impassive state of mind.

Morgana ultimately decided to return to the compartment. She took her bag and started to walk out, only to freeze and nod a quiet goodbye to the three boys.

Tom Riddle's eyes narrowed at the girl who so blatantly avoided him. She couldn't even speak to call her cat, was she actually mute? Did the burns mean something _more_ than they seemed? That would be a problem for her in Hogwarts since non-verbal spells were only taught in the 6th year. Of course, the professors would probably find a way for her to pass her lessons, but it would still be a painstaking chore for the teachers. 

He let out an involuntary chuckle at Dumbledore's future suffering because of Morgana, causing Avery and Lestrange to freeze in fear that they had accidentally done something to anger the powerful boy. Tom was only in year two, but he had already won over the professors with his silver tongue and intellect, though the old fool (Read: Dumbledore) could see past his charm.

However, he could tell that Morgana had already deemed him a threat and someone she should not interact with in fear of her own safety; the quick glance she had given him was enough for him to know that she was scared. The train slowly rumbled to a stop, making Tom stand up. Quicking donning the school robes, proudly exhibiting the green borders and badge of a Slytherin. The boys beside him did the same thing, also displaying their Slytherin pride and striking fear into any other house. Gryffindors were below them and the House of Snakes were pleased with that fact.

Tom opened the door, only to be halted by the figure in the corner yet again, at the back of the train. She hid under her hood, petting her cat. When she saw Tom, she stood up quickly, picking up her bag and avoiding his gaze. Quickly wiping the tear lines on her face, she moved out of the way for the boys to pass. 

This small motion did not go past Tom as he left the train. But he thought nothing of it. Afterall, why should a predator concern itself with its prey?

Morgana hurried out to follow the rest of the students, forgetting her dear pet. Serifina let out a yowl of protest as spiny fingers grabbed her and teleported away.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

A man waved over the students, calling out for the first years. Tom headed towards the carriages while observing the silver cloaked girl rush over to the Gamekeeper, Ogg. He couldn't see her eyes since they were shielded by the shadow of her cloak. The eyes truly were the windows to the soul, and she was keeping them away from him.

To find someone so defiant was rare, and he enjoyed the game of cat and mouse. Though rather than a mouse she be the _cat_ , and he as the _snake_. She was always in his grasps, and he ready to deliver the final strike. It would only take a little push, or so he thought.

As Tom Riddle sat in the carriage pulled by the winged horses that looked like the horse version of Death, he looked out the window, savouring his plot for conquest over Hogwarts. Of course, Dumbledore would be an obstacle but he could get rid of him somehow. It had to be soon, or his final goal would never be reached. His smile was enough to charm anyone but still strike fear into the heart of any onlooker, for his true insanity was starting to show. But insanity had a price, and images of the silent girl, Morgana, started to appear in his mind.

What was her purpose in the school? Why was she a pureblood with no knowledge of magic? And why, why did she defy him so much? The confusion swirled in his mind, disorienting him. She was an unsolved enigma, and he wanted to know more about her. Her clear problems with being harassed but not standing up for it. The silence that surrounded her. His silence was brought to an abrupt stop as his carriage door was suddenly knocked upon, startling the usually calm boy. He composed himself and opened the door.

"You're at Hogwarts now. Time to go to your table in the Great Hall, Tom." The Gryffindor Prefect walked away, knocking on other carriage doors for the students to leave. He growled slightly at the rudeness of the older boy but kept his mouth shut, wanting to keep the perfect reputation that would benefit him in the future.

Stepping gracefully out into open, he started towards Hogwarts, followed by his followers all trailing behind him, like an army ready for an attack on the castle. It was only time until that came true, the sadistic thought crawled through the throngs of his plans. This was his weakness; the future was too easily predicted for him. He took no thought to precautions when victory was right in front of him.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

When Morgana entered the room led by a man named Slughorn, she thought her day couldn't be anymore mortifying. Apparently, it could. Ghosts discussing everything except for non-magical subjects flew by, causing some people to jump and bump into her, causing her to fall and be caught by a giggling ghost man who dumped punch on her.

 This meant she stood there listening to the bumbling man explain how the 'Sorting' worked while her cloak and robes were sopping wet. As she followed the group into another room called the Great Hall, she could sense the eyes following her soaked and hooded figure. She waited a while, listening to the alphabetical listings of the last names. Her mind eventually drifted to where would be a good place to get food, because she was starting to become hungry.  _Preferably secluded_ , she thought.

"-iu? Morgana Chiu?" Her head looked up, feeling the embarrassment of not hearing her name the first time. She walked up to the front of the four large tables, each decorated with a coloured banner. Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the dripping and cloaked girl. "Miss Chiu, you'll have to remove your cloak to be sorted." The professor saw her freeze, her posture becoming rigid. "Miss Chiu, please." 

Her hands were small and pale as she removed the cloak, making people's eyes widen. Her hair was soaked from the punch the poltergeist had spilled on her earlier, but most of the attention was on the white splotches on her face and her burned neck. Of course, they couldn't see the other spots on her body but it was enough to make Morgana want to cry.

Professor Dippet was a kind fool, but observant enough to see that the girl didn't want this type of attention placed on her. "Quickly now, we still need to sort more students. Miss Chiu, please sit on the chair." The girl quickly complied, wishing for the stares of the students to disappear.

Her face was an expression of disbelief as the hat started to talk aloud. "You're a curious one, aren't you?" Her eyes looked up at the brim, wondering what magic he was made of. "You're scared. Scared of the Devil? Ah, your markings. True, true. You wish to remove them, eh? Oh," the hat mused while it saw the cause of her mangled throat, "You want to prove you can be nor-" She ripped the hat off her head, her heart pounding as the hat seemed to want to expose everything she had wished for ever since the accident. 

"Please place the hat back on your head." It was not a question from the Headmaster, and she did as asked. The Sorting Hat let out a disgruntled sound. "Fine. You have a small spark... That can be used for many things. But where to put you?" The hat trailed off. "...should be influenced by that bit of ambition buried in your mind..." It trailed off again. "Very well. You're to be in the house of Slytherin!"

Its assignment of her house brought no applause as she took off the hat and rushed towards the table of snakes, donning her cloak and entering her world of seclusion. Tom's eyes flicked towards the girl; she was in the house of cunning and ambition? How so? But that Hat was never wrong and he was determined to know what the spark was that it spoke of. Would it help him in the future?

Tom's attention turned back to the Headmaster who stood up, clapping his hands in attempts to gain attention. "Welcome, students!" He yelled once most of the attention focused on him. "I trust the returning students had a lovely summer, and that the new wizards and witches had a grand time coming to our school, Hogwarts!" 

 _Hardly_ , Tom thought for both him and the crying girl. "Now, I shall not delay you any further. Let the feast begin!" His final words seemed to start a chain of magic down the tables as food appeared on the platters in front of the students who gladly dug in. Tom simply took a few pieces of chicken and salad, along with a glass of pumpkin juice. His gaze swept around his table, full of chatter as friends greeted each other and new students shyly introduced themselves.

Brown eyes locked with brown as Morgana and Tom found themselves staring at each other as her hand slowly moved away from a small bowl of chicken stew that she had set in front of her. She saw the silent threat in his eyes as he stared at her, full of confidence. She gulped and looked away first, facing her soup for a few minutes. His gaze hadn't moved away from her; feelings of eyes on her confirmed that. Her splotched hand moved towards the spoon and delicately picked up the utensil. Tom watched as she sipped the soup from the spoon and turned back to his own meal. 

What had made her like that? The hat had talked about the Devil, and the markings on her hand and face made her into even more of an enigma than he had wished for her to be. It was as if she was an unfinished sculpture, with the uneven patterns ingrained into her skin.

He quickly ate and looked back at the girl, who had the goblet in her hands.

She stared intently at the cup, making him confused. What was she so serious about inside the container? Her eyes glowed with a hint of a smile on her face as she seemed to focus on the inside of the goblet. He raised an eyebrow at her peculiarity. Her excitement dropped after and she asked for water again in her goblet, which it gladly gave her. Tom was intrigued by what she had seen. He had been tipping back the drinks since the first year and never saw any writing inside the cups. She was observant, perhaps more than him. He grinned wickedly as he drank the rest of the pumpkin juice. She was going to be a great asset if he could recruit her, with his charms or his hostility.

_Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live._

 Tom's grin dropped into a scowl as he read the words in his goblet. Before he could fling it at someone in a rage, the prefects stood up and asked everyone at the table to follow them to the dormitories.

The words haunted him as he walked down to the dungeons. Did the goblet sense his plan to conquer death? Or was it placed by the girl, Morgana? He watched her slowly head towards the right only to be knocked down by a quick blur.  _If he helped her now, she would think him more favourably._  This thought was what encouraged to go over and assist her in standing up. When he reached the girl, however, she sat up and scooted away from him in fear. "Miss Chiu, are you alright?" She nodded quickly and stood up, walking away from him as fast as her short legs could.

Tom looked at what had crashed into her. It was the blasted cat, purring around his ankles. He jumped back in surprise, shocked that the cat had managed to get near him. She bowed her head in apology and snapped her fingers, alerting the cat to follow her to the girls' dormitories. As he walked to his dorm, he wondered about the quote in the goblet again.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

"So that scar is real?" Morgana entered the room, only to be assaulted with comments by a blonde girl. She quickly shook her head in shock and ran to her bed where her possessions were. "Hey, I don't bite. My name's Walburga. Walburga Black. Part of the Black family. Say, are you a pureblood? You better be, or you shouldn't be in Slytherin." The bombardment of words shocked the girl but she nodded quickly, slowly getting used to the dorm's excessive use of green and silver. She wasn't going to object; the colours complimented each other well and she liked that.

"Well, I have to know your name, you're my roommate!" Morgana looked around the room before her eyes landed on her personal trunk where her name was engraved in a silver lock. "Morgana..." Walburga read. "Nice! You're the first year, right? Yeah, you are. I'm a third year. You know what those spots on your body are?" Morgana curled her fingers and placed them on her head. "The Devil? You're joking me!" The blue eyes landed on the sincere look of Morgana. "Oh, you're not. Well, good night! I'll guide you through the smaller bits of the castle, but you'll have to learn the rest by yourself." Morgana nodded and gave Walburga a rare smile.

The blue eyes of her roommate lit up. "There you go, smile! You're pretty, not as pretty as me though." She looked at the girl's false enthusiasm. Morgana could tell that Walburga was just as bad as Tom; Walburga Black would take advantage of her and Morgana wouldn't let that happen. Not again. The girl's smile didn't reach her eyes, nor did her voice match the false enthusiasm on her face. So Morgana dropped the smile she had uncomfortably worn and went to bed.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Morgana woke up early, she could tell by the fact that the sun was not nearly up in the sky yet. She stood up and changed into a school robe and fed Serifina. After brushing her hair and teeth, Morgana left her dorm room to explore the castle before anyone awoke. The seclusion was familiar to her, even if she feared isolation more than anything in the world. The problem with that fear was that when it was already experienced daily, it became nothing but a friend to the soul that was already dying.

Shaking the terrible thought from her head, Morgana left the common room of Slytherin, wandering around the castle until she reached a floor below the Great Hall, running her hands across the wall to find the steady rhythm of her fingers thumping across the stone. Her hands accidentally grazed a portrait of a pear which giggled, causing her to pull her hand away from the painting. Nearing the portrait again (a bowl of fruit she noticed), she tickled the pear again and jumped back when a green doorknob appeared. Her eyes widened and she opened the door.

Her entrance to the room was a bit of a shock for both the occupants and the person who had entered the space. It appeared to be a kitchen run by elves. Elves with large eyes that seemed to widen even more when she walked closer to them. "Miss? What is you doing here?" One elf wearing a sack walked closer to her, asking the star-struck girl. Her mouth opened and closed, still unable to make a sound.

Morgana resorted to motions, pointing at the fruits hanging from racks. The elf's (it's a male) eyes lit up and asked the girl another question, trying to understand what the girl was trying to say. "Is Miss unable to speak?" Morgana's eyes went steely, causing the elf to freeze in hope that he hadn't offended the quiet girl. Morgana nodded her head, her hand holding her destroyed throat.

The elf smiled up at her, unfazed by the terrible scars on her skin. "My name's Boddy! Is Miss hungry?" Morgana shook her head. She wanted to cook for herself.

Her hand went to her pocket, where she pulled out the quill and a piece of scrap paper. A few seconds later, the elf read out her writing. "Can you teach me how to cook?" All the elves stopped their work to look at the girl. Never had they been asked to teach their profession.

"Boddy asks if Miss Morgana is okay with doing that? Us house elves are good chefs!" He announced proudly, and she nodded slowly in agreement. "But if Miss really wants to, us house elves would be okay with Miss cooking for herself." Morgana's eyes lit up as she stood up quickly and walked to the kitchen.

She turned to look at the house elves, eyes shining excitedly.

"Of course, Miss! House elves help with what they can. You can be friend of ours. Miss Morgana is our friend!" He announced loudly, and all the elves stopped their work again to agree with him.

As Morgana learned how to make a bowl of porridge from Boddy, she smiled. She didn't communicate for the remainder of her time in the kitchen as she learned, but all the house elves all seemed to swear on one thing that day; they would help the shy girl with her troubles and be her friend because that's what she wanted so much. They could see it in her eyes as she listened to them assist her in cooking.

She just wanted a friend. To her luck, that day in the kitchens she had made hundreds of friends that would never turn their back on her. The feeling of excitement as she listened to the little elf teach her a special way to stir the oats, that was a feeling that Morgana liked. It was foreign to her, being isolated for so long.

But from that day, she was never truly lonely when all those friends were only one call away. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author is a lazy piece of shit, copy-pasting from her Wattpad book. 
> 
> House-elves. Servants to those who need them or claim them, an ideal group of friends for our silent witch in need of the caring attention she's craved for so long.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sign language may be a way to communicate, but how does one perform magic with it?

Morgana's internal clock woke her up at 5:30 AM and her legs brought her back to the kitchens where she learned how to make eggs and sausage from the house elves. She had gone to the kitchens for the past week since her discovery of the room on the first day. The school work was simple enough, students were told to write essays based on the number of inches on the parchment.

Nothing required her to speak, pleasing Morgana greatly. She learned a new language, sign language as Boddy had called it; turns out some of the house elves are deaf so they all had to learn the silent language. 

It was like clockwork; Morgana woke up at 5:30 AM, went to the kitchen and prepared porridge for herself and learned new ways to improve the taste of her food until 6:30 AM. She would then finish her porridge in the kitchens, bid her house elf friends goodbye and head back to the Slytherin dungeons and by 7 AM, she was back in her room where she got ready for the day.

It did not slip past her observation that Tom Riddle left his dorm room at the exact same time she entered her room.

She avoided the boy named Tom, keeping her head down and her body under the cloak to hide the spots; the jeers from her fellow classmates were not unheard of as she listened to the whispers of her and the Devil. A very wise person had once told Morgana that the silent ones were the best listeners and she had been right.

With the lack of sound from herself, Morgana could hear many things; the bubbles coming from the Great Lake, the silent but powerful stomps of Rubeus Hagrid walking near her classroom, and the whispers of her peers.

Morgana thought about Tom as she finished the last word of her Transfiguration essay. He was a cold boy, she could see that. This didn't stop people from admiring him. He was kind to the people who spoke to them, though his eyes showed no interest in them.

He was an 'Outstanding' student which caught the Professors' attention, though Morgana could see something else in his smiles. She thanked her village for allowing her to see the fake expressions, or she would have also believed his persona. But was it a persona, or was he just really cranky that day on the train? She had been isolated from the world for far too long to trust her judgment. Maybe she shouldn't just judge someone on one meeting.

Morgana concluded that Tom was just in an extremely cranky mood that day. He was quiet too, maybe he could be a nice friend for her.

Tom turned around when he felt a slight change of mood from the silent girl who had finished her essay already. She was staring at the essay with an unusual sense of determination and though Tom didn't understand what was so interesting about the parchment, he felt slightly uneasy as he felt the magical aura of Morgana envelop him in a crushing hug.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Tom rubbed his eyes, tired from the late night reading about the Dark Arts. He sniffed the air. Was that... Porridge? He thought, bewildered. Was this a new way of breakfast at Hogwarts; the food was delivered to the dorms? Walking out of the boys' section and into the common room, his feet stopped moving as he saw Morgana sitting on a green velvet sofa, using a spoon to sip a bowl of porridge.

Her eyes glanced up, the spoon halfway to her mouth. She quirked an eyebrow and pointed at his hair, causing him to walk over to a nearby mirror in the room and notice that he had a hair sticking up. In slight mortification that he had been caught looking imperfect, he smoothed down the rogue strand of hair and turned to look at her again.

She gave him a thumbs-up, approving the rest of his neat appearance. She had set down her bowl and watched him walk over to her, sitting down on a separate armchair; green velvet with a snake on the top of the chair. It was his favourite seat.

He waited for something to happen, for her to stand up to let him sit, but all Morgana simply picked up her half finished the bowl and continue to take tiny sips of her porridge, quite delicately.

It was surprising, the easy-going feeling of the magical aura around her. Unlike his magic, that snaked around him like the serpent that represented him, her magic felt like a protective shield around her, like a warm fuzzy kitten who decided to protect their master by surrounding her. Compared to the heavy presence he had felt before, this one was much calmer.

Looking up again, she looked at the unmoving boy and her eyes flickered to the table. Tom looked in the same direction and saw another bowl of porridge. Morgana finished the small scoop of porridge from her spoon and used the utensil to point at the bowl sitting in front of him, then to him.

"The porridge is for me?" He asked her. She nodded warily and went back to eating her breakfast. He was confused for more than one reason and wanted answers. "What time did you wake up?" The spoon had just left her mouth when he asked and she paused, frowning. Morgana looked around for an object, something that would help her tell him. Then she noticed the watch on his wrist and her eyes lit up.

She seemed to teleport next to him as she grabbed his wrist. Tom jumped, unused to the touch of another human. The only reasons people touched him was to harm him, so he was still jumpy. He looked at what she was pointing at; her finger was directed at the 5 on his watch.

"You woke up at 5 in the morning?" He questioned and she shook her head. Her finger slid over to the 6, telling him her final answer. "Ah, 5:30 then?" She let go of his wrist and nodded before seating herself on the couch again, finishing her porridge.

Morgana narrowed her eyes at the boy. Tom hadn't touched his porridge so she quickly placed her bowl down and used her finger to point at the untouched bowl. "Oh, you want me to eat the porridge?" She nodded.

Tom concluded that the only way to talk with the odd girl was to ask 'Yes or No' questions. He picked up the bowl and started to eat, surprised at the taste, compared to the meal served at Great Hall where he usually ate breakfast.

The porridge was sprinkled with cinnamon, a delight to Tom's taste buds rather than the bland porridge served for the students at breakfast in the Hall. "Did you make this?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Will you remove your cloak inside the castle?" A very large shake of her head, refusing to take off her only refuge.

He raised an eyebrow at her but continued his interrogation. "Do you wake up at 5:30 every day?" She showed her agreement.

Tom took another bite of the spiced serving. "Will you talk?" She froze and looked around for something to show him her answer. There was no quill or parchment around, so that was ruled out. Morgana decided to just shake her head no.

This conversation went on for a bit longer before Morgana really wanted to point out something she had noticed. Tom noticed the inner turmoil of the girl and placed his half-eaten porridge on the table, waiting for her.

Morgana decided that pointing would be the best solution and pointed at her hair, lifting a strand of her black locks. Tom frowned, unable to comprehend what she was trying to say. She then forcefully pointed at Tom's head, continuously directing her finger at his black hair. He still didn't understand and Morgana wanted to die of embarrassment, not used to communicating so much at a time. So she pointed at her eyes and stalked over to him, pointing at his eyes.

He stared at her finger in slight fear that she may attempt to poke his eyes out. She took a deep breath, wishing that he could just act smart again and pointed at her eyes and hair, then at his eyes.

Tom finally understood. "Are you saying that I look like you?" Morgana sat back on the sofa, relaxing. "Ah, so you are." Tom's heart stopped racing, thanking Merlin that Morgana wasn't attempting to stab out his eyes with her nails.

"Well, I'll be going now. Students will start waking up in..." He looked at his watch.

 _6:55 AM,_ it read.

"Five minutes. Best be ready." He left the room back to his dorm, preparing his robes and books. Morgana looked at the half-eaten bowl of porridge slightly dejectedly but picked it up, stacking the bowls. Her clumsy hands signed out 'B-O-D-D-Y', and the house elf appeared, bowing to the girl as she handed him the bowls. She nodded him thanks and watched as the house elf pop back to the kitchen. She never understood what they were using to teleport, but she really wanted to learn how to do that.

Tom saw her hands. What were they doing? How did they summon the house elf? Did she have a talent for a magic unknown to him?

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

This routine continued for the next week of classes, and Morgana's grades were high in the rankings, hovering close to Tom Riddle's. The only assignments they had were hand-written, so it was simple for Morgana to study.

They had become a bit closer, her forgiving him for the terrifying moments on the train. They ate breakfast together, but that was it.

Over time, Tom learned that he was to finish the porridge that Morgana provided him or he would have to clean the dishes himself.

She proved this to him by keeping his unfinished bowl of the morning and pouring the remaining porridge onto his bed sheets, making him jump when he felt the slimy texture of the meal on his back, covering the shirt on his pajamas.

"Morgana!" He had bellowed, making the other Slytherins freeze when they heard him call for the silent girl.

The girl's aura had flushed out around the common room, an odd joyous feeling enveloping all of the students in the Slytherin dorms as Tom yelled angrily about his bedsheets and how he'd have to wash them again.

Still, he had learned his lesson.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Morgana's hand shot up as Professor Grithworth asked for who had finished their homework. She watched as her teacher waved a wand to summon all the papers to her. The eccentric professor clapped her hands together, seemingly excited.

"Alright, class. Today, we will work on our first spell." Morgana shrunk slightly and this did not go unnoticed by Tom Riddle or the Professor. "Oh, don't worry! It's a simple charm, the Levitation Charm. Now, I understand that last year we did cover this, but second years, please mind that first-year students are in this class too. Besides, this will be a review lesson for you."

She swirled her wand at the beginning and said Wingardium and ended it with a swipe up and spoke the end words of Leviosa. Feathers were sent to each desk and she instructed the students to cast the spell on the feather.

Morgana started to panic as she realized she would have to speak to perform the spell. All around her, feathers started to float. There was an explosion from the other side of the room (it was a guy, Morgana remembered his last name to be Finnigan). She flicked her wrist in the motion showed by the Professor, but the feather stayed put.

Professor walked over to her. "Dear, you must speak the words- Oh..." Morgana started to quake, her wand shaking as she pointed the stick at the feather again. Her mouth opened and closed, unable to make a sound. She was mortified, unable to cast a spell that was for first years. Tom knew what was about to happen as he started to feel the light aura turn into a strong, overpowering presence, like a kitten that turned into a tiger.

He stabilized himself, using his magical energy to project a shield that would allow him to feel the lesser crushing magical energy of Morgana.

Of course, this was a fickle thing to cry about. At least, in the eyes of everyone else besides Morgana. What could she do with no voice? The pain that would appear when she attempted to speak, the burning in her throat as she remembered the woman with wild eyes as fire was pressed against her skin. She would be the laughingstock of the school, and the rumours would only increase about her being cursed by the Devil.

The sound of wood clattering on the stone floor of the classroom echoed around as each student stared at the girl and they started to cough, choking on the heavy aura that crushed their magic easily. Even Professor Grithworth felt the crushing magic surrounding her and  _god, it hurt_.

Tom's eyes narrowed.

Professor Grithworth was shocked. Never in her life had she had a student cry in her class. Never had the mood changed so quickly. But then again, she had never had a mute student.

"Dear. Are you quite alright?" Tom took a deep breath and relaxed his face, which would make anyone else who looked at him think that he was definitely the star student and polite boy of Hogwarts.

He started to walk forward. "Professor Grithworth, if you wouldn't mind." The panicked teacher looked at him quickly, like he was her escape from the weeping girl.

"Ah, Tom! Would you mind taking Miss Pettins outside so she can calm down?" As he got closer, she whispered to him some instructions. "Bring her anywhere, somewhere calming. Ah, try the Dark Forest. It should be quiet enough for her there." Tom gave a quick nod and took Morgana out of the classroom by the wrist.

Morgana's pulse started to quicken and Tom really didn't want to manage a human, especially with a panic attack. "Morgana, please calm down. I understand you're scared, but I really..." He took a breath. "I really cannot tolerate this!" His voice raised and Morgana's eyes widened and she ran again, like a cat away from something it couldn't fight against. The snake had lost its prey again.

 _When did he let go of her?_  He thought. It was raised as if he was going to hit her, and Tom's rage increased. She ran from him. No one dares run away from him or they would have been tortured emotionally, for now. He strode down the hall, his ears listening for the rush of Journee shoes that he knew Morgana wore.

He ran after her, and nearly caught the girl before he watched her hood fall from her face. She covered her face quickly before he saw the white marks and continued to run.

 _I'm not in the mood for a chase,_ he thought as he continued to run for the crying girl he was supposed to be calming down. Were the white markings on her face that bad that she didn't dare show anyone? He couldn't understand why Morgana couldn't ignore the whispers as he had those years ago. But then again, he didn't understand the feeling of loneliness. His bitter thoughts had paused his chase as he thought about the potion that had destroyed his emotions.

Finally, Morgana stopped. She stood in front of the Dark Forest, her face covered by her hood. She made no indication for him to follow her. She walked into the Dark Forest, alone.

And he let her.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is playing with Morgana's mind, and she doesn't like it. But what can she do against an unforeseeable threat? 
> 
> She could save a life in the meantime, though.

Morgana came back at midnight, her posture stiffened and flinching at the slightest sound in the dungeons. Some fog surrounded her, blurring her vision and making her dizzy. It was as if a magical spell had wrapped around her eyes and affected her mind, causing her head to spin as she tried to stabilize herself. The whispering around her grew as she watched them start to point at her, talking.

The movements of the girl, the amount of stumbling and grabbing objects to stabilize herself, did not go unnoticed by her peers who internally suspected she had finally gone insane. Tom was reading in his dorm when he heard a loud thump and screaming in the common room. As a future prefect, he sprinted out to 'take care' of the trouble.

"Peter, wake up! Peter, oh my god-" A second year was shaking the unconscious boy, his magical aura wildly wrapping around the younger child as he frantically tried to wake him. He turned and saw the brooding second year and ran up to him. "Tom, my brother- Please-" Tom pushed aside the boy.

There was a small boy lying on the ground, his chest not moving as the time went on. Tom quickly walked over to him and looked at him closer, only to realize that it was a first-year that had fallen. Grabbing his wrist, he felt for a pulse.

Tom's heart dropped. The boy's pulse wasn't there. There was no magical aura around him, not even a faint wisp of it. Unfortunately, Tom wasn't concerned about his well-being, but the fact that he would never be prefect with the fact that someone had died while he was around.

Morgana's head cleared and she looked around to see what had happened. She didn't even remember walking back to the common room; the last thing she had seen was a beautiful, blinding white creature.

She saw a crowd around something and she quickly rushed over, her brown eyes widening at the sight of a dead boy and a hyperventilating second year. Walking through the crowd (quite easily, with her small body), she managed to make it to the middle and grabbed Tom's wrist.

People gasped, waiting for Tom to attack her or snatch his arm away. Instead, he allowed her to guide his hands up a bit more the arm of the boy until he felt the faint pulse.

"He's alive."

Everyone seemed to have been subconsciously holding their breath because it seemed like the pressure on their chest alleviated as they looked on to see what would happen next.

Morgana pushed Tom aside, strike two. She pointed at the brother, still panicking and shoved Tom towards the boy. It was obvious that she needed him to calm the boy down before he also passed out. Tom was becoming irritated as he held the boy while watching Morgana feel around the young boy's chest, her fingers tracing his ribs, two down.

She looked up and Tom was surprised to see her eyes, as was everyone else. They glowed a honey-like gold, unlike her normal dark brown irises.

Tom backed up, wondering what she was about to do. Morgana started to pump the boy's chest, stopping only to feel his neck for something. The brother was freaking out again.

"You need to calm down. Morgana knows what she's doing." He pinched the brother's shoulder, making him freeze. Of course, Tom didn't really think so but he could try to believe she knew.

Her hand stopped when she felt it and she started to massage the lump in his neck. It wasn't his Adam's Apple, it was placed much higher than where it usually was. Then her head dipped down and she started to breathe air in through his mouth, pinching his nose to keep from air moving out.

What the hell was she doing? They had never seen someone do what she was doing and they were slightly weirded out by the fact that this girl seemed to be making out with a dead body.

She stopped the odd kiss to press on his chest again, and as Morgana continued to pump his chest, she started to glow a golden colour. Tom's eyebrows rose as he watched the golden flush encircle the boy and a dark ball of smoke flew out of his body, removing the lump that had been in his throat.

He coughed, sitting up in shock. Everyone looked at the wet candy that lay on the ground. Morgana's eyes glowed gold still until Tom snapped his fingers in front of her. Jumping, she looked at the Riddle boy and shook her head, shutting her eyes.

When she opened them, they were back to the dark brown she usually had. "Let's bring him to the hospital wing." Morgana nodded and helped the boy up. He didn't like the proximity the two were at, the boy and girl were too close to him for comfort. She looked at the boy in concern, constantly pressing her hand against his chest to confirm his breathing was steady.

Tom raised one hand up, trapping the smokey ball in his own little capsule that floated beside him as he tried to identify it and the origins of it. He decided the best course of action would be to bring it to Professor Merrythought for more information on it, as she was more experienced in the realm of magic.

Perhaps it could help him later on...

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Tom knew what Morgana's future would be; it was painfully obvious that she was smart in the Medical field and could pursue a career in it. She wouldn't meet his eyes, a reminder of what had happened the day before. It wasn't painful, but he rather relished in the fact that she was submitting to him.

They reached the wing in a few minutes and Tom knocked on the door, and a man appeared, frazzled. "What on earth-" The healer froze, seeing the collapsed child. He took the child into the Hospital Wing, shoving the other two out quickly, rewarding them with a Chocolate Frog each and instructing them to go to bed.

As soon as they exited the Wing, Tom threw the frog away. She looked at him incredulously, raising an eyebrow at his antics. He looked at her. "What the hell was that? The- The kissing?" His face flushed red. He stopped his train of thought right there before it advanced any further to childish schoolboy thoughts. He looked at her eyes again, trying to see any signs of the golden glow he had seen earlier.

She looked at him. Her fingers traced his chest, her hands stopping right above his heart. His eyes widened at her boldness, feeling uncomfortable as her palms lay upon his chest. She smiled softly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath while indicating for him to do the same.

He stared. He wasn't a kind person, never benefiting her in any fashion. Now, Tom was born of magic and unable to feel emotion, but what he felt was fear for something in his chest that wanted to make him help her. He still had that sliver of goodness, the part of him that was still a child and innocent.

Startled by the sudden rush of emotions, his immediate instinct was to attack. His hand raised and came down upon her cheek as he spit out the words, "Don't touch me." She clutched her cheek, staring in shock and his hand dropped, feeling the satisfaction of striking fear into the girl, quite literally this time. Unknown to him, his eyes had turned red, scaring the girl more than the slap itself.

She looked back at him, still clutching her cheek as it turned red. Brown on brown, a snake towards a cat. The snake attempts to find a weak spot but is still somehow intimidated but the subtle bristling of the cat. As it rears, ready to strike, the cat runs away, faster than the snake could ever slither.

She bolted. Her hood fell off, releasing the flood of black hair that flew behind her as she sprinted away from him. The water hit his hands, tears from Morgana.

His mind slowed and he processed that he had hit her. Quite hard, as he felt the sting of the slap on his hand. He started after her, hoping to catch her and demand her not to tell anyone. He needed that role of a prefect, and he couldn't have her destroy all of his hard work.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

For a small girl, she ran quite quickly. His breath started to shorten, looking for the small girl. She should be easy to find; she wore a damned silver cloak. His eyes roamed the nearby window and he froze as he saw the silver fabric head in the Dark Forest, alone again during the middle of the night.

Who knew what creatures roamed during that time? Then his eyes widened as he continued to run, remembering the sewer pipe in the forest which led to the Chamber that the basilisk could exit through to hunt.

If the basilisk was found before the designated time, his whole conquering plan would be over. "The bloody twat! Does she want to die?" He swore, running out of the castle to chase after her.

Anyone who heard him would have fainted from his language, though it wasn't the worst of his vocabulary.

"Morgana!" He yelled, starting to sprint as he looked towards the girl's trailing cloak, shining in contrast to the dark forest surroundings. "Morgana, stop! We don't enter the deep parts of the forest!" She disappeared yet again, causing him to stop short.

Tom's heart dropped as he looked at the similar landscapes around him. There was no way that he would be able to return to the castle alone without some of the people who despised him (Gryffindors) accusing him of attacking and killing the small girl. His reputation would be ruined.

He heard bushes rustle loudly to the west of him and he started to run like he never had before, his hair starting to fly all over the place as his robe fluttered behind him. "Morgana?" He yelled around, looking around; trees were around him everywhere. "Morgana!"

"Boy." Tom turned around and faced a centaur who had suddenly appeared. He looked around, bewildered. Centaurs wouldn't even talk to the headmaster, why would it talk to him? "Follow me." The centaur started to trot towards a clearing that Tom had not noticed before. "A great beast has been slain today." The hybrid pointed at a grayish figure and Tom immediately recognized the silver hemmed cloak. "Morgana." He yelled, startling the young girl who sat on the ground, staring at something faintly glowing.

They didn't even notice the creature leave.

Morgana hugged the body like it was her lifeline as she turned to face him. Her hood was down, revealing the dark brown eyes and the special white spots of hers. Her eyes were wild, distracted, and Tom took the opportunity of her baffled mind to delve into her mind. "Legilimency." He muttered under his breath, hoping that he managed the spell.

It wasn't easy, and the best result he got from his amateur spell were flashes.

But it was enough.

He could feel the leaves brushed against her skin, scratching her and leaving bloody marks on her body. The fright as she was grabbed away by something, the shock as she saw the unicorn that had taken her away from the path she had chosen to follow. She looked at unicorn in admiring terror.

Her breathing stopped, starstruck. Her hand reached out and touched its neck, feeling the soft fuzz of the fur. To Tom, it was like touching silk. So soft and smooth, it felt like she would never let go. And she watched something, something large and scaly, something fast, something of pure evil rip its throat out.

He snapped back to reality as he looked at the girl in shock. She had just seen one of the most magnificent creatures and watched it die. Tom walked slowly over to the blood-soaked girl and looked at the radiant beast's carcass, silver blood slowly dripping from its destroyed throat onto her robe. "Morgana..." He whispered as he watched her expression.

He needed them to go before he was caught by the teachers-

"Tom! Morgana?" The yells at him and his silent companion were ringing around the forest. Tom recognized the sound of Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore.

He watched as the same centaur come through the brushes with his teachers. "Professor..." However, Dippet had other intentions than listening to Tom for once. Dumbledore's worried expression to a face of shock.

"Miss Chiu, you must leave that unicorn, come..." He attempted to drag her away, only for her to clutch the body of the unicorn with a tighter grip, refusing to let go. "Miss Chiu-" She shook her head, tightening her hold on the dead beauty.

"Should we alert Newt Scamander? He came back a few years ago, right?" Dippet asked Dumbledore, who nodded. The powerful Transfiguration teacher pulled out his wand, making a circling motion to summon a Phoenix Patronus, relaying a message to the magizoologist.

Dumbledore walked to stand next to Morgana, cautiously avoiding the blood the unicorn had around it. "Tom, do you know what happened?" Tom shook his head and listened to the trot of the centaur's hooves slowly disappear. He had almost forgotten it was there.

The professor glanced at the creature and kneeled; he touched a bit of the silvery blood and looked at Tom dead in the eyes, daring the young boy to attempt to read his mind. "Tom, do you know any uses for unicorns?"

Tom's eyebrows raised, not expecting a pop quiz from the professor when they stood around the dead magical creature in the Dark Forest. "Well, Professor. There is the tail of the unicorns, used for wand cores and potions. Unicorn horns are used for potions and decorations, no?"

The Professor nodded, agreeing with the information. Dumbledore placed his hand on Tom's back, guiding him away from the girl and back towards the school. He could hear Dippet's useless pleas for Morgana to leave the corpse alone.

"Tom, I must tell you that it's very difficult to even catch a unicorn in a werewolf state, these magical creatures are fast and know how to hide. However, besides their tail and horns, the blood can be used as a type of immortality elixir. However," he continued as he saw the gears turning in Tom's head, "To slay and drink the blood of a unicorn is like cursing yourself, you'd live a cursed life."

The boy's train of thought stopped and decided he wouldn't use the blood.

Maybe in a future event, if needed, he thought. But if what had killed the unicorn had drunk the blood as he thought, then his plan would be set back. Stopped, even.

He nodded and left the forest, fixing his hair along the way. The trail to safety was easy to follow, just look for the path of destruction that Morgana caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was proofreading and I found this typo: "And she watched something, something thin and long, something fast that looked like a giant snape rip its throat out." (^ц^ ) Someone make a giant Snape.
> 
> Actually, don't. (O∆O)
> 
> CPR was invented in 1960, this is 1939 so of course, they'd be weirded out that this first year's making out with a dead body


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, teenagers just need to be teenagers.
> 
> Not that it matters to Tom.

The 7th year later went on to tell Tom that Morgana had been using sign language to apologize for the mess she had created after the girl had passed out from magical exertion and emotional trauma. 

Morgana had come back from the Hospital Wing at midnight, her face tinged in a soft pink that did not match the sullen tempo in her steps as she entered her room without acknowledging the boy in the common room. 

It wasn't normal for Tom Riddle to be ignored, and quite honestly, he was annoyed. Morgana had performed an odd ritual to save a boy, then proceeded to ruin the entire common room with accidental magic that shouldn't have been possible in the first place, lest she is Merlin.

He stood up abruptly, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned, increasingly becoming more frustrated with the girl than he should have. 

But what more could he do?

If someone had seen Tom Riddle at the time, they probably would have run away as fast as they could from the maniacally angry look on his face, cowering like the prey they were in the school of predators. 

However, no one did, leaving Tom to his plotting.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Rumours spread around the school quickly about the strange magic that had swept through the Slytherin's common room, many noticing the trickle of green-robed students exiting the Hospital Wing (to the wicked delight of the Gryffindors) and the whispers that a powerful magician with the power of non-verbal magic had appeared. 

The whispers grew and grew and grew, expanding in their ridiculousness, spreading the stories throughout the stone halls that seemed to press down on her presence until suddenly, professors and students together noticed the missing silver-cloaked girl from the halls. And more stories spouted, one carefully being carried through the school to a tall, handsome second-year who held powerful magic, that the mysterious young girl who had only shown her face once in the time during school had the magic rivalling the greatest wizard of all time: Merlin.

Tom was  _not_ happy with this. He had expected the girl (as per their usual schedule that he had gotten used to) to be sitting on the same green velvet chair, holding a plate of whatever breakfast she had prepared that day, but she was nowhere to be found. He hunted the entirety of the Slytherin dorms, to come up with nothing. And if there was one thing Tom didn't like, it was the result of  _failure._   

Finally, Tom conceded and went to find the 7th year — "You're bothering me, Loki, with a little girl's issues?"—and learned what she had been signing before by relaying the hand movements she did so often when she believed to be out of his sight. She had been  _signing_  a name: Boddy. He gave the older boy a nod of respect, and in his room (after kicking out the other boy with a disapproving glance at the magazine lying on his bed), called out the name. 

An elf popped into existence next to him, making Tom jump before recovering from the surprise and standing up tall, feeling the need to intimidate such a creature that could teleport inside the castle's wards. It bowed and Tom felt a rush of... something. Pride, maybe. "Where's the girl?" Tom asked, only to feel his rage flame up as the elf had the  _gall_ to lie to him, telling him he did not know what girl he was talking about. 

In honesty, Tom didn't want to say her name, as of who could be listening to him and discover his plans. It was a stretch, but he had to be the most careful, especially when it came to discussing such a prominent name that bounced around the corridors recently.

He leaned forward, whispering into the elf's ears, "You know, Morgana?" The elf shrunk away from Tom immediately, looking away. "Boddy does not know the girl-" Tom cut off the elf with an angry hiss, making it freeze up again. 

"My time is precious. Do not waste it." And with that, the elf grimaced with all its wrinkly glory and took Tom's hand to a basic map of the school, pointing at a location near a painting of Barnabas the Barmy on the 7th floor. Tom frowned and started to rebuke — because you do not tell a future Dark Lord to wait — but the elf put a hand up, stopping the boy's words.

It shook its head, its eyes angrily glaring at the boy. "Boddy will not give the location of Miss without her permission. She is hasing a bad time right now. Words won't stop talking about her." The boy gritted his teeth, half in frustration at the elf's broken Engish and a half at the fact that a mere  _elf_ had told him to shut up, but he complied.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

People silently moved out of the way for Tom as he briskly made his way to the meeting area, waiting several minutes as he looked around for the familiar silver fabric glinting in the afternoon light. He glanced at the painting of Barnabas, rolling his eyes as he looked slightly past the art and saw a couple kissing, which he frowned at more when he realized it was Avery with a random Hufflepuff girl, hugging her closely and looking content. 

Normally, Tom would have marched up and immediately sent the girl off with a kind look before turning to Avery and feeling powerful as he felt his magic envelop and crush Avery's, but now, he was more concerned with the missing party, stuffing his hands in his pockets as continued to wait.

To his delight, Avery finally took notice of his powerful leader and stopped the public displays of affection ( _There should be a word for it, like PDA or something like that,_  Tom thought), took the girl's hand and rushed out of the area. Tom grumbled slightly, so unsightly for such a refined boy in the castle as he continued to wait for Morgana to show up and had half a mind to leave the area out of annoyance. 

A knock on a door made him jump because, in this corridor, there were  _no doors._

_So where on earth did the sound come from?_

He looked around wildly, only pausing his frantic search for the sound as his eyes landed on the girl under the silver cloak, her hood covering her face as she held open a door that had clearly never been there before. She indicated for him to follow her into the room, which he did and nearly regretted immediately. 

Inside the room was a fireplace, a couch, several bookshelves, and a pile of books; quite a comforting scene, if not for the oppressing magic that nearly strangled Tom where he stood as he struggled to breathe, taking deeper breaths as he made his way to the sofa, trying to use his own magical aura to shield himself from suffocation. 

"So, Morgana," he managed to cough out, making her sit down on the opposite end of the couch, as far as possible away from him. "What is this place?" She frowned, looking down as her hand subconsciously picked at her ruined throat, looking around at for something to write with-

A quill and parchment paper appeared on the table next to the pile of books, making Morgana smile —quite a rare thing that happened recently —as she picked them up, writing and continuously crossing out words until she handed him the parchment, the final words on the paper being  _The Room of Requirement._  

"How'd you find it?" She bit her lip, and he quickly shook his head, not wanting to offend her, instead wanting her to calm down to hopefully ease the suffocating aura surrounding her. "What are you reading?" She grabbed the parchment, flipping it to the blank side and carefully placing it on the table as she wrote on it, handing it to him after.

_I am learning a new language._

He read it and frowned, feeling put off by her eagerness to learn of something he did not understand. However, he did not show the feeling of frustration to her in an effort to show that he had control over his emotions, unlike the ways he had acted before, unconstrained.

The room was quiet for an hour, with Tom sitting awkwardly to one side while the other thumbed through books, occasionally putting and Tom could slowly,  _finally,_ breathe as the constricting magic left him.

He scrunched his eyebrows, thinking quickly before perking up to look at Morgana, who had started to reach for another one of the books on the pile. "I missed your breakfast today." 

She froze, her hands dropping the book onto the carpeted floor suddenly as she whipped around to face him, unintentionally pushing him down onto the couch and her hands to the sides of Tom's arms, and her body over Tom's. He could  _feel_ her magic spin wildly around the room like a whirlwind and heard as a book from a nearby shelf fall to the ground as her magic expanded.

He coughed at the awkward positioning but nonetheless still answered, "I was wondering if you were going to try something new-" He inhaled a sharp breath, feeling his face bloom with a rouge colour ( _God damn it,_ he thought). "Morgana, I can't breathe, please get off." Immediately, she crawled off of him, her hood slipping off her head.

He felt his face cool down, and he quickly placed a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat slowly leave his cheeks at a calm pace. 

Clearing his throat, he looked away from her for a few seconds, considering his options after the awkward situation they had just been in.

"Er... Can you teach me-" The large clock on top of the fireplace chimed once, twice... eight times before it stopped, startling Morgana as she dropped her book at the loud sounds and looked at the numbers. She jumped up, disturbing Tom's focus on the flickering flames he was trying to change to a darker green. 

Morgana frantically pointed at the time and  _finally,_ he noticed that it was in fact, 8 PM and they only had half an hour to get back to the common rooms before curfew started, and he had no intention of getting an after-hours warning on his record before he even got Prefect (which he definitely wanted).

"We have to go." She looked at him, tilting her head barely as if to question him for a second. Then she stood up and grabbed Tom's wrist, dragging him along her run back to the Common Room.

He didn't know why but for some reason, he felt something he had never felt before in his life.

He had never felt so...  _free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jumbled screaming as I try to add more chapters to make up for the horrible hiatus that I never intended to do but did anyway.**
> 
> **I'M SO SORRY YOU GUYS I'LL TRY TO UPDATE A LOT MORE I PROMISE**
> 
> **I'VE EVEN GOT THE IDEA FOR CHAPTER 7 STARTED**
> 
> **Uploaded: 2/19/19**


End file.
